


A Sweet Treat

by Rhysand_vs_Rowan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12580848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysand_vs_Rowan/pseuds/Rhysand_vs_Rowan
Summary: On Feyre's first Feast of Souls in Velaris, she finds a new way to give Rhys his holiday chocolates.





	A Sweet Treat

##  **A Sweet Treat**

“ _Feyre! Help! He’s going to kill me!_ ”

“ _FEYRE! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF THE CAULDRON_ -“

“ _THE HIGH LORD IS DEAD!_ ”

Feyre ignored Rhysand’s repeated pleas for aid. She was sitting on the curb in front of the townhouse, trying to lure a frightened toddler closer. Its mother was almost as scared, and she apologized time and again as the little female sucked on her thumb and refused to move even an inch.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” she told the child and held out a little paper bag of chocolates. She was dressed as a siren, which didn’t exactly help ease the little one’s fear. Nuala and Cerridwen had helped her prepare a dress of white linen scraps, then paint the underside of each with something that glowed in soft shades of blue and green. They’d dusted her with fine luminescent powder and helped line her eyes and lips in deeper shades of that glowing paint. 

When all was said and done, the twins had dubbed her “Fit for a soul-devouring succubus,” which they then assured her was a  _good_  thing.

This was the fourth child, however, who was too frightened of the ‘spirit’ offering them candy to come close enough to fetch their treat.

Feyre lifted the candy on a breeze and floated it to the child’s little bucket. She stood and offered her hand to grasp the mother’s. The faerie curtseyed, bowed, and made some formal gesture with her free hand that must have been specific to her kind. Children seemed to be frightened by Feyre’s costume, their parents were frightened by  _her_.

The Lady of Nightmares, sitting on a street curb and handing out candies. It wasn’t exactly something faeries were used to.

Well, it wasn’t something those who grew up  _outside_  Velaris were used to.

Refugees and visitors from other Courts alike had been making their way north, seeking out the Night Court and its newly revealed Lord and Lady of Dreams. They were a legend each in their own right, but together they were the mates whose love brought one another back from death itself. Stories were already being written of the fair human maiden who seduced the Lord of Nightmares and taught him to love.

She didn’t bother correct them, to tell them it as the Lord of Nightmares who seduced  _her_  and taught her to dream again.

Still, where Feyre had once withered from the adoration of strangers, she smiled and laughed with each and every adult or child who came seeking candy. Velaris was a place of peace, beauty, and love. It’s High Lord and Lady were something wholly unnatural to outsiders- when Feyre sat down to encourage the child to come to her there were audible gasps from some visiting faerie.

Rhysand was just as mystical as his mate in the eyes of the outsiders. The most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history, the Lord of Nightmares, Amarantha’s Whore (though the truth of that was spread far and wide now), the male who  _decimated_  Hybern’s army single-handedly, the male who’d fought as High-Fae, Illyrian, and even as a  _dragon_ , the male who repaired the Cauldron and saved their entire  _world_ \--- was currently dressed as a sailor (lured to his doom by the siren), covered in grass stains and begging his mate to save him as small children attacked. He let them wrestle him to the ground, screaming dramatically at his ‘demise’ and lamenting at the ‘cold-hearted wench’ who refused to even look at her fallen love.

“You’re the one who promised an extra sweet to anyone who could best you in combat. It’s your own fault,” she rolled her eyes and a few fae laughed.

“Cassian’s doing it too now,” Nesta was wearing gossamer wings (which she insisted were  _NOT_  meant to be Illyrian). She wasn’t ignoring Cassian, instead she was offering encouragements to the army of knee-high girls swarming him, “Aim for the inside of his left ankle. He’s sensitive there. Ooh! Good shot.” Cassian howled and fell- barely controlling it enough to avoid a child.

Elain and Lucien had a small grill set up just down the sidewalk, where Lucien was teaching Elain how to roast pumpkin seeds with cinnamon and sugar- a treat for the adults mulling about to watch the spectacle.

Mor was beside Feyre, handing out the traditional High Lord gift of fruit. When Feyre had asked if  _she_  was supposed to give the shining red apples out in Rhys’ stead, Mor had only laughed and said, “Feyre, you want them to  _like_  you.”

Indeed, most of the kids who Mor gave the apples to pulled a face.

Azriel and Amren sat in folding chairs on the other side of the Townhouse, their own personal tradition. Varian was seated beside Amren and studied her system carefully. Children came up to the three- all half-hidden in shadow- and held out some wrapped candy or another. Amren or Azriel would ask what it was, then tell the child what the going rate of exchange was for that candy (the rate depending on how much one of them liked it).

The two acted like black-market candy dealers, letting children exchange treats they hated (usually coconut-filled chocolates) for whatever their favorite type was (chocolate marshmallows were this year’s best seller). The two Candy-Dragons hoarded their stashes, and somehow always ended up with a mountain of bizarre sweets only they liked. In the past it all went to Azriel at the end of the night, but now that Amren was a proper High Fae she’d informed him she would claim half of all takings.

Azriel gave her absolutely everything with a fruit-cream flavored filling and kept the coconut for himself.

All in all, it was a bizarre spectacle for the three Archeron sisters, but it was rapidly becoming one of Feyre’s favorite faerie holidays (below Starfall of course). The Feast of Souls was a uniquely Night Court tradition- a day early in harvest season where the souls of the dead were said to walk the earth. In the Court of Nightmares and Illyrian Camps, it was a day of feasting followed by an evening of putting out wards against any vengeful spirits. In Velaris it was an evening where everyone dressed in bright, colorful costumes and presented children with ridiculous amounts of chocolates and other sweets.

The last Feast of Souls fell just before Amarantha’s hold on Prythian was broken. This was Rhys’ first in fifty years (not to mention the first with his mate), and he made up for lost time in his enthusiasm.

A chorus of cheers erupted from behind Feyre, signaling the end of the battle with Rhysand. She turned and smiled as a half dozen younglings came running to her, “Lady Night! Lady Night! We won!” A four-year-old from Summer was bouncing up and down.

“Feyre Cursebreaker, Lady of Dreams and Starlight, I have been vanquished!” Rhysand fell dramatically to his knees before her.

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t work for me. I still have some plans for you, Lord of Nightmares.” She ran a hand through his hair and bent down to kiss her mate on the forehead. While she did, she loosed some of the power beneath her skin and began to glow brighter even than the luminescent paint on her skin, “Be healed, my love.”

Rhysand sighed happily as he was bathed in the light of his wife. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and stood- lifting her up into the air, “Thank you, wondrous Lady! I live to fight again!” He set her down, grinned at the chorus of envious sighs from the females in the crowd (and a few of the males), then looked at the kids gathered around, “Who’s next?!”

“You two are gross.” Mor snorted.

“Lady Feyre,” a female came up holding a small child dressed as a pumpkin in her arms. She looked to where Rhys was bracing for ‘battle’, “May I just say…  _congratulations_.”

“ _Please_  don’t encourage them,” Mor rolled her eyes.

Feyre just laughed and gave the female a bag of candy, “Somehow I tricked the Cauldron into giving me the greatest mate in the history of Prythian.”

“That’s my line!” Rhys shouted before he (gently) tackled a seven year old.

Internally, she shied away from such public displays of affection. Tonight, however, she and Rhys were both wearing glittering new masks- the reflection of those they wore in the Court of Nightmares. This was the first time guests were invited to Velaris- the true heart of the Night Court. If that meant acting like a mushy, flirting couple and having Rhysand  _constantly_  come to her for ‘healing’, then so be it.

She would endure the most over-the-top gestures imaginable if that meant the faeries finally saw Rhysand for the miracle he was.

The miracle she saw him as every single day.

“Mor? What’s Rhys’ favorite candy?” Feyre glanced to her friend after the woman left.

“He likes the chocolates with caramel and pecan, why?”

“No reason.” She glanced to Azriel and knocked softly on the ever-shifting shields around his mind.

 _Yes?_  He continued bartering with a child (he was offering three pieces of solid chocolate for every piece of coconut-filled she had), but Feyre felt his shadows mixing with the darkness of night to stand beside her.

_If you procure some chocolates with caramel and pecan for me, I’ll give you whatever you want._

_Four of Mor’s apples._  He didn’t even hesitate.

Feyre frowned at the basket in Mor’s hands. They had more than enough apples, it was just… … …  _apples_?

“I need four of those, please.”Feyre nudged Mor. Her friend just nodded and she took the promised fruit, sniffed it (all Feyre could smell was apple), and used her power to send them to Azriel.

 _Pleasure doing business with you_. Even before his voice faded from her mind, he’d informed the girl he was dealing with that the going rate for caramel and pecan chocolates was  _six_  pieces of her favorite kind for every  _one_  of those.

Feyre just shook her head, “Why did Azriel just ask for four of those apples?”

“What?!” Mor whipped around to look at Azriel, “Feyre, you didn’t!”

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s an addict,” Mor rolled her eyes and let out a low growl, “and you just enabled him. He’ll eat them all by morning.”

Feyre blinked while she tried to sort out the situation in her mind, “I’m sorry, I’m not following. Why are  _apples_  bad?”

“Because they’re not apples,” Mor smiled brightly at a female who approached with her child, but spoke through clenched teeth so the female couldn’t read her lips.

After they gave that child (and a few more) their treats Mor tossed an apple to Feyre, “The parents like that the High Lord gives their children something  _healthy_  with all the candy being traded. It’s tradition that the younglings have to eat the apple before anything else, they  _remember_  eating the apple…” She nudged Feyre, “Take a bite.”

“Okay?” Feyre bit into the apple and very nearly spat it back out. The taste that filled her mouth was decidedly  _not_  apple, “ _Shit, Mor! What the hell is-_ “ it hit her quite suddenly, the identify of what she was tasting. Feyre stared at the apple as she slowly chewed the piece in her mouth. It  _looked_  like an apple, but if she focused  _very_  hard, she could see through the glamour.

It was white chocolate, filled with a thick milk chocolate cream.

“Everyone tastes what they love the most,” Mor smiled and prodded Feyre until she took another bite. “I guarantee you Azriel will be throwing up chocolate and coconut tomorrow, thanks to you. The parents remember receiving apples when they were children, but Rhys has been glamouring chocolate for the last five hundred years. They’ll forget what it really was by morning, but he always loves their faces when they see the apples.”

Feyre could only laugh.

“Ah, enjoying a nice  _healthy_  apple?” Rhys came over (with two children hanging from his throat). He took the bucket of candy from Feyre and bribed the younglings off of him, “How about I take over while you eat?”

“Deal.” She took another big bite- it was the best candy she’d ever had (not that she’d had much to compare it with).

Rhys bent down and stole a nibble of the apple, then hummed as he chewed, “White with milk chocolate cream… Now I know what to spoil you with.”

“You spoil me enough already.” Feyre took another bite of her ‘apple’.

“For five hundred years I could only dream about what I would do for or give my mate.” Rhys kissed her cheek, “I have a very long list to work through. We’re still on the first line.”

As soon as Feyre had eaten her apple (though how adult minds explained away children eating the  _core_  too was something Mor couldn’t explain), Rhys returned the candy bucket to her and gathered another batch of children to fight. Cassian took a break to tease Nesta about her ‘NOT Illyrian’ wings and swiped an apple from Mor’s basket for each of them.

When  _he_  tried to mimic Rhys and steal a nibble of Nesta’s apple (the first bite having settled it into her favorite mix of chocolates), his entire face went red and he reflexively spat it out. Elain laughed and brought Cassian a bag of hot roasted pumpkin seeds to clear the flavor from his mouth.

“I could have warned you Nesta likes  _extremely_  bitter dark chocolate.”

“That wasn’t bitter,” Cassian rasped even as he shoved pumpkin into his mouth, “I didn’t like how  _weak_  it was. I like my chocolate as bitter and dark as my soul.”

“Never steal a bite of Cassian’s apple,” Mor warned Nesta, “it’s white chocolate with some kind of sludge in it that I’m pretty sure is just sugar paste.”

“She’s lying!” Cassian roared as Nesta, Feyre, and Elain laughed, “That is a bold-faced lie!”

“Is it?” Mor pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to Cassian, “There you go, then. Your favorite. Pure cacao. It’s impossible to get stronger than that.” She smiled brightly.

“Why did you have that on you?” He frowned.

“Because I know how  _much_  you love it.” She winked to Nesta, “Or is it too dark for you?”

Cassian never met a challenge he couldn’t be manipulated into taking. He shoved the entire thing in his mouth

“His eye is twitching,” Nesta reported as Cassian forced himself to chew. His face wasn’t even red- it was  _purple_. He started breathing hard, “Now he’s crying.”

He swallowed it hard, and even Mor winced in sympathy, “Mmm, t-that… that was t-tasty.” Cassian looked like he was going to vomit.

Feyre held up a piece of chocolate, “This will help.”

Cassian almost tripped over himself backing away. Tears kept streaming from his red eyes, “N-no,” he coughed, “w-why would I w-ant to lose this,” he shuddered, “w-wonderful taste?” He glanced around at the crowd and it looked more to Feyre like he was debating throwing up in the street.

Nesta rolled her eyes and went back towards the townhouse door, “I’m going to get him something  _strong_  to wash that down with. Make sure he isn’t going blind.”

As soon as she was inside, Feyre looked to Cassian, “Are you alright?”

“I’m going to die,” he bent over and braced himself against the iron fence.

Cassian did  _not_  die, though he avoided all candy as the clocks of Velaris ticked closer to ten. That was when the youngling quest for candy would end and the fully grown fae would flock to places like Rita’s for their evening parties. Azriel, Mor, Cassian, Nesta, Amren, Varian, Lucien, and Elain were all going out for drinks and dancing. Feyre had other plans for Rhys during those hours they would have the townhouse to themselves (besides, Rita had promised to make her Feast of Souls cocktails for the couple the  _next_  evening).

Over the final hour of the Feast of Souls treat-giving, Rhys was felled (and resurrected by Feyre) no less than twenty times. Azriel somehow tricked  _Nesta_  into bringing him three more apples to add to his growing hoard, and Elain and Lucien roasted no less than  _ten_   _pounds_  of pumpkin seeds (only three pounds of which went straight to Varian and Amren).

At the stroke of ten, fae and their young drifted away. Some went back to their homes, some to one of the six parks set aside for visitors from other Courts to be winnowed home. Azriel released his  _eighty-four_  spies in the city as the crowds departed. The entire Inner Circle packed up, then freshened up for their evening at Rita’s.

“You go have fun with them,” Feyre told Rhys as they carried leftover candy and apples into the townhouse, “I’m a bit tired, I think I’ll just turn in.”

“Are you alright? You’re not ill are you?” He quickly did a scan from head to toe.

“I’m fine, just  _tired_ ,” Feyre let a yawn force its way out of her for good measure, “too much excitement, and I think I’m crashing from my sugar-high… It’s fine though, I swear. Go with the others. You’ll love it. I insist.” She kissed Rhys’ cheek and went upstairs to her bathroom.

Waiting in the shadows of the hall outside her bedroom door, Azriel handed Feyre an impressive sack of candy, took a huge bite out of one of his ‘apples’, and vanished with a wink.

Feyre set the bag on the bathroom counter and turned on the faucet to fill the tub with water.

Fifteen minutes later, just as she knew he would, Rhys knocked on the bathroom door, “Feyre? I sent the others on without me. I’m a bit tired too.”

“Liar.” She washed the iridescent powder from her skin and watched it swirl in the waters of the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, “Can I help you wash?”

“I’ve got it under control.”

“… are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I didn’t do… anything wrong… did I?” to emphasize his question, Rhys jiggled the door knob. Locked. While he and Feyre didn’t bathe together  _every_  night (only three times a week or so), she never locked the door.

“No Rhys, I swear. I’m just tired. I’ll finish washing up and just go to bed.”

 _Liar._  His voice in her mind was accompanied by a phantom caress.

She knew he was only pretending to buy her excuse for staying behind. He just wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. She didn’t want him to slip into the bath and make love to her in the swirling steam, she didn’t want him to  _watch_  her bathe- her favorite way of torturing him- and she gave him nothing to suggest what she did have planned.

Rhys went to the bed while Feyre finished bathing and doing  _whatever_  she was doing in the bathroom that was so secret. He’d cleaned up in the downstairs bathroom already and donned a fresh clone of his sailor costume (minus the boots) that was free of grass and dirt. While he waited for his mate, his mind went through every scenario possible.

Would she step out of that bathroom in tight black lingerie, an erotic succubus come to feast on his soul? Would she be the pretty, innocent damsel looking for a roguish male to make her a woman? Was he a winged beast with talons and claws who nonetheless made sweet, gentle love to her until he was turned back into a handsome prince? Was he to be a genie summoned by her rubbing his ‘magic lamp’ until he came and offered her three wishes?

“We did that one last night,” Feyre called from the bathroom.

Rhysand grinned, “Yes we did.” He’d been sending her images of each and every costume he could imagine her in- and that catalogue was large.

The female who came out of the bathroom though was nothing like he’d imagined, surprisingly.

Feyre wasn’t wearing some costume, she was wholly and completely naked.

Not a scrap of lace or even a hair tie touched her body. No glittering powder or jewelry (save for her wedding ring)- not even a crown or heeled shoes.

She smiled at the way Rhys’ lips parted in surprise and hunger. Her blood heated as his eyes caressed every curve of her body from her breasts to her calves, as he licked his lips and those eyes slid up the inside of her thighs to the apex of her legs.

He swallowed hard and stood. Feyre waited until he came  close, until his fingers reached out to graze the side of one breast and he leaned in to kiss her.

“The rules of this game are simple,” she froze him with her words. “There are thirteen pieces of chocolate fixed to my body with magic. You can’t see them, smell them, or feel them- at least not with your hands. All you can do is taste them.“ she leaned forward and claimed Rhys’ mouth with hers. Feyre parted her lips and Rhys’ tongue immediately entered her mouth to taste his mate. She slid the candy from the roof of her mouth (protected as they all were by a shield of cool air) and pushed it into  _his_.

“That doesn’t count to the thirteen.” She whispered against his lips.

Rhys’ eyes widened and a thrill of wild excitement flashed down their bond. He chewed his candy slowly, savoring it and planning his search, “Get on the bed.” His voice was guttural, and those eyes were pure preditor.

He would be devouring her in his hunt, but it was Feyre who held all the power. She walked slowly, letting Rhys’ eyes drink deeply the curve of her backside, the dimples at the base of her spine, and the way her loose hair swayed over her bare skin. When she sat on the bed, she lifted one leg and slid it across the sheets just long enough for Rhys to lick those lips again as he caught a glimpse of her core. She brought her other leg up and laid down with her back arched.

Feyre’s eyes snagged on Rhys’  _visibly_ straining pants as he advanced. A thrill went through her- one she knew would never ever fade. Not so long as he looked at her like he did now. Under the strength of those eyes she never felt stronger, more beautiful, or more desirable. Rhys’ eyes had the ability to utterly ravage her, and he knew it.

“I don’t know where to start looking,” Rhys slid onto the bed by her feet and crawled towards her. He knelt and delicately picked up Feyre’s foot. He kissed her ankle, then traced his lips across the top of her foot to her toes, where his lip did indeed snag on a piece of candy.

“Once upon a time you said you wanted to lick me head to toe,” Feyre reminded him as he took _three_  toes into his mouth and slid his tongue between them until he freed the candy, “now is your chance.”

The way he sucked at her skin- even though it was just her toes- made Feyre’s core pound.

Rhys ate his chocolate before delivering kisses and licks from those toes up to her knee. Rhys turned Feyre’s leg this way and that, nipping at her skin as he searched for more. Those soft, sensuous lips traveled up Feyre’s leg until he reached the inside of her hip- where yet another piece waited.

Feyre was breathing hard by the time Rhys picked up her other leg and gave it as thorough an examination- there was only one chocolate hidden behind her knee. His search was slow and thorough, and by the time he reached the inside of her hip he could smell her arousal.

Rhys kissed each side of her pelvis, then sucked confidently at her naval. Sure enough, another candy was waiting against her belly button. Feyre slid her legs to rest on either side of his, and as his too-soft kisses inched up towards her breasts, Rhys lowered himself so that his own aching need was pressed against her in silent promise.

When he bit at her nipple (and took another candy), Feyre moaned. Rhys chuckled and rested his lips around the sensitive peak as he chewed on the chocolate. His lips pinched at her, and kept her warm until he swallowed and began to suck at the flesh. His hand came up to take her breast and hold it tight, even as he flicked his tongue across her nipple.

Her scent filled his entire world as he kissed his way across her chest. He felt the candy on her other breast with his tongue, but he bit and licked around it until Feyre arched her back and grabbed his head, forcing his mouth where she needed it.

“ _Rhys_ ,” she moaned his name when his tongue flicked across the peak of her nipple and he quickly retrieved his chocolate, “ _please hurry_.”

“How many is that?” he asked with a grin.

“ _Six_.”

The desperation in her voice made him harder. She wriggled her hips against his, and the flush of her skin was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, “You hid them so thoroughly, it could take a  _very_  long time.”

Feyre whimpered and Rhys sat back up.

He took her hand and sucked at each finger. On the hand that bore the tattoo that marked their bargain to never again be separated by death, he found a candy fixed to her palm. When Rhys licked his way up her other arm, he found another nestled in the fold of her elbow. Rhys’ tongue swirled around her shoulders, not the neck where she needed him.

When he lifted her arm and bent down to check the underside, Feyre burst out laughing, “Alright, there are none in my _armpits,_ Rhys.”

“Spoil sport.” He pouted only an inch from her skin and returned her arm to the bed.

Rhys eventually found two more chocolates- one on the side of Feyre’s neck, and another pinned behind the ear she loved for him to caress with his lips.  _Both_  of them were rolling their hips where their bodies were touching by the time he was finished.

When Rhys finally forced himself to sit back and he told Feyre to roll over, they were breathless.

He found a chocolate in one of the dimples at the base of her spine, his favorite place to rest his thumbs when he thrust into Feyre. She clenched her thighs as Rhys’ tongue explored her back- finding one candy between her shoulder blades. He was wholly flattened on top of her when he brushed her hair aside to devour her neck. Rhys ground himself against her, which in turn pressed Feyre into the blankets for some of the friction she  _desperately_  needed.

“Only one left,” she was panting by the time he finished sucking at her neck.

“Now  _where_  could that be?” He knew, he was just tormenting her.

Rhys slid back and flipped Feyre over without warning. He kissed her neck again, then her nipples. As he snaked his way down her torso, he sucked at every spot he’d found candy before, removing all traces of it from her skin.

“Hurry up,” Feyre moaned, “I don’t know if I can keep focusing on the shield.”

Rhys rested his hands on either side of her hips and pulled apart her folds, exposing just how wet he’d made his mate. He crushed his mouth against her and Feyre shouted. Her hand immediately tangled in his hair, holding him as he probed deep with that tongue. When he pulled back with the chocolate between his lips his eyes were  _burning_.

“Congratulations,” she shuddered, “you found them all.”

“Did I?” Rhys swallowed the chocolate, “I’m not so sure. Let me just check again.” His tongue was in her within moments and Feyre’s thighs clenched around Rhys’ head as she gasped and moaned. He devoured her until she grabbed his head and held him in place, until here moans turned to panting cries and her hips ground against his face.

When Feyre fractured and came on his tongue, he only grinned and waited for her to release him. “If that was all, then why do I still taste something sweet?”

“Rhys-“ she cried out when his tongue slid back into her for just a few moments.

“Hum, maybe I need to reach a bit deeper?” Rhys wrapped a hand beneath Feyre’s head, keeping her from looking away as he slowly slid two fingers into her.

She arched her back and grabbed his powerful forearm. Rhys’ eyes bore into his wife’s as she pulled his fingers deeper, then helped him pump the hand in and out. She didn’t look at where his fingers parted her, she just looked into his violet eyes with a silent plea.

He coaxed her pleasure higher and higher, until her hips angled down on his hand, grinding him against her knot.

“My mistake,” Rhys pulled his hand from her without warning, “I guess there isn’t candy there after all.” He licked his fingers clean.

Feyre was panting, shaking, but she just waited. She knew as desperate as she was for him, he needed to be inside her.

Rhys slid off the bed and made quick work of his clothes. When Feyre reached for his cock and licked her lips, he swatted her hand away lightly, “You ate that whole apple, you don’t need any more sweets.”

“I want you inside me,” she whispered.

Within seconds, Rhys’ lips were pressed against hers. He probed the seam of them and she opened for him- both legs and mouth. She felt his cock settle against her hips, but he made no move to enter his mate as they kissed. Her entire body twitched as he throbbed and her moans mixed with Rhysand’s. He held her breast tight, his thumb flicking and pinching at her nipple.

Rhys’ hips began to move in soft, gentle thrusts that had his cock parting the lips of her sex and rubbing across her knot.

Feyre was forced to break their kiss as she gasped. Her entire world centered around where Rhys was connected to her.

“Don’t come,” he whispered as he stared into those blue eyes, “not yet.”

He took a knee in each hand and pressed them into the bed, spreading her even wider. Rhys licked and sucked at Feyre’s neck while he angled his cock to press against her opening. He gave a few harder broad thrusts that pushed him along her sex and ground his head into her knot. Feyre whimpered, and Rhys released one knee to take himself firmly in hand.

“What’s the matter, Feyre darling?” He pushed against her entrance just enough to part her, but not enough to even give her the head of his cock, “Are you unwell? Do you want to stop?” He slid it up towards her knot and the head came free of her body. Rhys tapped his cock against her, flicking her with his length.

She surged forward and reclaimed his mouth with hers. Rhys couldn’t resist his mate’s body any longer, not with the way her tongue danced around his, tasting and teasing. She cried out against his lips as he thrust forward and entered her.

“Now how did you get  _this_  wet?” Rhys teased as he rolled his hips, claiming more territory an inch at a time.

“You know damn well,” she hissed as her body shuddered.

This wasn’t even the  _hundredth_  time she’d had Rhys inside of her, and yet her skin still felt as electric as it had the first time that gorgeous length filled her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and made sure that when he stopped to let her adjust, Rhys hadn’t left out a single throbbing inch.

He pulled her up until they were both sitting- Rhys on the bed and Feyre on his lap. His powerful arms held her tight as she rolled her hips. Rhys’ hands cupped her rear and he adjusted slightly so that he could slide in and out of her as much as possible. His lips were pressed against hers, they moaned into one another’s mouths, and as the pace of their thrusts grew, the length shortened.

“You sound so cute when you moan,” Feyre gasped. Her forehead pressed against his as they broke their controlled rhythm and simply moved as quickly as they could. The wave of pleasure was shooting up faster and faster, electricity was building in her knot, and she could feel his need for release, “Wings?”

“No wings,” Rhys hissed, “it makes it too easy for you.”

“It does, does it?” Feyre’s mouth seized a sensitive spot on his neck, one that tended to set him off just as well as that inner ridge of his wing.

The most powerful male in the history of Prythian turned his head so he could moan into her ear. That desperate passion in his voice- and knowing she was the  _only_  female who could inspire that- sent her over the edge.

Feyre came with Rhys’ name on her lips, and his moans turned into wrenching cries. Her body convulsed around his cock and it was enough to send him right over with her. Rhysand surged forward, throwing Feyre onto the bed in the process, and thrust hard into her twice before his body seized and he began to spill himself inside her. He gasped her name as they came together, as her lightning exploded through his skin too.

He opened the room in his mind and Feyre entered. They each shared with the other the exploding pleasure of their orgasms, and through that link they felt what one another felt.

She screamed again as a second wave of ecstasy washed over her, drawn out by the continued thrusts of Rhys’ hips. He couldn’t spill himself again so soon, but his body seemed to coil and explode around where his cock was embedded in her hot, slick depths.

“I love you,” she gasped as the orgasm suddenly released her.

“Feyre Archeron, ‘ _love_ ’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Rhys smiled and claimed her lips once more.

\-----

* * *

Rhys thoroughly exhausted Feyre.

They made love over and over again until it was sleep that ravaged them both. He held her tight against his chest as consciousness slipped away and he fell into a dream world filled with the light and laughter of his mate.

In the morning, she was the first to wake. Feyre untangled herself gently from Rhys’ arms and went into the bathroom. When she returned, wicked thoughts swirled through her mind.

Rhys had rolled over in her absence, and the sheets had abandoned him. His cock had that gentle stiffness of early morning and Feyre set her sights right on it. She crawled onto the bed slowly, and made her way to Rhys’ hips.  She stroked his mind with hers- both making sure he wasn’t awake and checking to see that he was dreaming of something nice. She caught disjointed images of a rolling green field and her walking hand-in-hand with him.

When she bent down to lick the head of his cock she did so gently. Her tongue swirled around the tip as Rhysand’s body shifted towards her ever so slightly. He was undoubtedly asleep, but she built pressure little by little until his cock was truly hard and a sleepy moan escaped his lips.

She took as much of him in her mouth as she could, and stroked what she could not. Feyre loved the sleep-warm heat of him, the way his body began to move against her mouth. He began to stir, and she braced herself.

Rhys’ hand twitched, then came to his cock so he could stroke himself in time with the decidedly sinful turn his dream had taken. When his fingers brushed against Feyre’s cheek instead, his eyes opened.

“Feyre?” Rhys was gently thrusting up into her mouth even as confusion lit his face. At the sight of her lips stretched around him and the lust shimmering in her eyes, his grip on the rising pleasure slipped and he erupted in her mouth. He cursed and held her head as an orgasm slammed through him, as he felt his mate’s throat rippling around his cock.

She swallowed every last drop, refusing to release him for even as second while he came.

“Good morning,” Feyre said at last when he was limp.

Rhys loosed a weak, panting laugh, “Good morning.”

He tried to pull her up to kiss her, but Feyre made a face, “Morning breath? No thank you.” She kept stroking him, and it wasn’t long before he was hard again, “No kisses until you brush.”

“Well, if I’m not allowed to kiss you, maybe we should remove the temptation.” Rhys pulled Feyre’s hand from him and turned her around. He waited until she looked back with a wicked grin, giving him permission. Rhys lined his cock up with her entrance and thrust in without any teasing. The passion of night was for play and taking your time. Morning was for waking the body up with a nice  _hard_  jolt. It was their favorite way to start the day.

Feyre’s hands fisted in the sheets as Rhys entered her. She was wet with both lingering traces from the night before and her own arousal when she’d brought Rhys to orgasm. She gasped as he filled her, as his tongue licked up her spine just has it had the night before.

His hands found their favorite holding place. Rhys’ thumbs rested in her dimples and he pulled almost all the way out before thrusting into her again. Feyre screamed and very nearly came from just that. Rhys scanned her body, her mind, with both magic and the knowing eye of a husband. He read in the way she shuddered around him what she wanted, and  _how_  she wanted it.

Rhysand gave Feyre his cock fast and hard. He released one side of her hip to reach down and swirl his fingers around her knot while she slumped onto the bed and pressed her face into the sheets. She screamed each time he thrust into her, and her feet rose behind him to wrap around his firm rear as much as possible, to encourage him to go harder, go  _deeper_. It was a good thing Rhys had made such a thorough study of what she enjoyed, Feyre was too lost in the feeling of him to speak.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear as he thrust, “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

Feyre’s wings exploded from her back, the talons narrowly missing Rhys as they formed. He brought forth his own wings and bent over so that he could lick at her ridges and the thin strips of membrane.

“ _Rhys_ ,” Feyre’s voice hitched when he traced along the back of one fold near her spine, “ _don’t stop_.”

“Never.” He thrust as hard as he could and sucked at that sensitive new skin.

Feyre screamed one last time. Rhys’ hips pumped as moisture and the scent of her release exploded around his cock. Her walls slammed down on him, holding him in a vice grip that was difficult to fight. Rhys came as her scream broke. Feyre’s body went limp as it filled with his heat, but even then he did not release her wing.

“I have nowhere to be for the rest of the day.” Rhys whispered as he gently lay against her back, mindful of the wings. He gave a half thrust of his hips, just in case he was being subtle.

Feyre reached back and managed to stroke a particularly tender spot along the edge of his wings. She felt Rhys stiffening inside her already.

“Wall. Now.”

He smirked and slid out of her, then waited while she crawled to the edge of the bed and stood, “Hard enough to make the pictures fall off?”

“Always.”

\-----

* * *

“Did you get enough sleep?” Mor raised an eyebrow.

Rhys and Feyre stumbled downstairs in late morning. They were still pressed close together, even as they gathered eggs and bacon from the spread on the table.

“I slept very well,” she smiled.

Rhys sat down and pulled Feyre onto his lap, sharing the chair with her. Nesta clicked her tongue in disapproval and went back to coaxing coffee into Cassian and Azriel- both of whom looked more dead than alive.

“How was Rita’s?” Rhys asked.

Cassian only flipped him off.

“So let’s compare-“ Amren strolled in with an only half-dressed Varian (thankfully the top half this time), “-Cassian drank himself into a coma trying to impress Nesta. Azriel ate  _seven_  candy apples,  _then_  at least half his candy, a handful of pumpkin seeds, and  _three_  cocktails.” She glanced between the two of them, “Three coins says Azriel pukes again by the end of this-“

He jumped up without warning and bolted down the hall in the direction of the guest bathroom.

Amren just smiled.

No one took her bet, but Rhysand still pulled out three gold coins and handed them to his second in command.

Feyre looked innocently to Cassian, “Would you like to train today?” He flashed her a rude gesture, but didn’t stop drinking his coffee.

“Feyre and I are going to Rita’s tonight, since we didn’t make it yesterday,” Rhys speared some eggs with a fork and offered them to his wife, who ate them happily, “would anyone else like to join us? Rita is making her cocktails again.”

Cassian was the  _first_  to raise his hand, despite Nesta’s incredulous stare.

Lucien and Elain came to the late breakfast before Azriel returned. It was three weeks since they’d accidentally mated, and judging by the state of Lucien’s hair their morning was as eventful as Feyre and Rhys’ had been. Elain took a blueberry muffin and fed her lover bites of it.

“Az, are you alright?” Rhys asked when his friend returned.

“I’m alive.” He groaned as he settled back into his seat, “I’m never eating chocolate again.”

“You say that every year.” Mor snorted.

“I mean it this time.”

“You say  _that_  every year,” Amren rolled her eyes.

“Well maybe this time I mean it.” He snapped.

Rhys chuckled, “Granted, I missed the last fifty Feasts of Souls, but fifty- _one_  years ago you were saying that as well.”

 _Maybe next year we’ll go through some more of those costumes you had in mind_ , Feyre whispered into Rhys’ ear as they continued to tease Azriel.

 _Oh, I have costumes in mind for every holiday, if you’re interested._  Rhys raised his face to Feyre’s and kissed her.

When he scooped her up in his arms and stood, Mor just rolled her eyes, “I said it last night, I’ll say it again- you two are gross.”

Rhys flipped off the chorus of agreement that erupted from everyone gathered at the table, then winnowed Feyre back up to their bedroom.

They didn’t come out until after dark.


End file.
